Eventually a bigger cluster of lights appeared directly ahead of the aircarriage. Beyond it was an expanse of darkness, mostly free of lights. This, he guessed, was the sea. He watched it draw slowly closer, anticipating the moment they left the coast and his homeland.
When the propeller noise abruptly lessened he and the other passengers looked up and around in surprise. The usher started down the aisle from the front.
“We’re making an unscheduled stop at Sacal Bay,” he told them.
Tyen’s stomach plunged far below the aircarriage.
“Why?” one of the passengers demanded.
“We don’t know yet.” The usher shrugged. “The signal lights are limited in what they can communicate.”
“Will we be delayed long?”
“We won’t know until we learn the reason we are stopping.”
“Can we get off?”
“Yes, but stay close to the aircarriage. We don’t want to be delayed any longer than necessary.”
Tyen drew in a deep breath and let it out, trying to steady his nerves so that he could think clearly. The sensation of his heart beating too fast was growing far too familiar. He wished he could confer with Vella, but he dared not risk it.
I hope the usher is telling the truth about not knowing the reason, he thought. If he knew a wanted man was among the passengers surely he would insist we all stay on board.
But it would make no difference, if the police were waiting when the aircarriage arrived. Tyen would be trapped. Unless … hadn’t he noticed a door at the back when he boarded?
“Are you well?”
Tyen started as he realised the usher was leaning over him. He met the man’s gaze then quickly looked away.
“Um…”
“Perhaps a little airsickness? Don’t worry, it happens to a lot of people.” The young man reached into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of brown paper. “Here. Just in case.”
As the usher continued past, Tyen examined the gift. Unfolding it, he saw with amusement that it was a bag, the inner surface coated with a glossy varnish. To avoid a mess if he happened to throw up, he guessed.
He looked back down the aisle past the usher, who was doing something at the end of the chassis. There was another door, with a large sign reading “Service Employees Only”. Turning away, Tyen looked down at the bag and realised he had the beginnings of an escape plan. A desperate one, but that was better than no plan at all.
The aircarriage descended so gradually towards Sacal Bay that Tyen began to wonder if the driver was deliberately torturing him. He badly wanted to hear the usher announce that the signal had changed, or had been misread, and they were heading straight to Wendland after all, but if they were going to land, he wanted to get it over and done with. As they drifted over the town he tried to memorise the lie of the land. The airpark was brightly lit, drawing the eye and making the surrounds seem darker. From the pattern of street lamps and house lights he could see that the town was a crescent shape, curving around the bay. The streets followed the same arc. Even from the air he could see that the land sloped steeply down to the water except at the centre of the town, where the scant level space had been reserved for the airpark and a small open public space. Connecting streets were not square to the main roads but angled to reduce the steepness of the descent for vehicles, while staircases cut a more direct path for pedestrians. The houses were almost like staircases themselves, each peering over its neighbour below. It would look pretty from the sea, Tyen guessed.
At last the aircarriage pulled up above the airpark loading bay, hovering as if having second thoughts. The usher hurried to the rear again and Tyen heard the sound of hatches opening and cables unravelling. A shudder went through the chassis as the cables were snagged, then it vibrated as it was cranked into position. As the roof of the loading bay passed Tyen’s window he caught a glimpse of a small number of people waiting. Most were aircarriage staff waiting to welcome the passengers, but the rest wore the uniform of the police.
Tyen sagged forward, clutching the paper bag and keeping out of sight of the window. As the aircarriage settled into place and the rest of the passengers rose, he turned away from the window. He gathered his satchel and pogbag, then leaned his shoulder against the back of the seat, a hand pressed to his forehead.
The usher hurried to his side. “Are you unwell?”
Tyen nodded. “I need some air,” he said.
The young man grimaced in sympathy. “Hold on there. You’ll be out soon.”
Tyen looked beyond him. “Does that open?”
The usher glanced at the door and pursed his lips.
Puffing out his cheeks, Tyen cast about, satchel and paper bag caught in one hand and pogbag in the other. He let the paper bag slip from his fingers.
“Yes, yes, come this way,” the usher said. He beckoned and turned to the service door. “Go down the stairs. If anyone asks why you’re there tell them Dila Nailer sent you. The men’s room is to the right, down the passage.”
“Thank you,” Tyen gasped, then closed his mouth and gulped as he passed. The door opened onto an open metal framework that gave access to the aircart for the workers who serviced the aircarriage. He stepped out onto a platform. A narrow set of stairs spiralled down the little tower, taking him under the loading bay and out of sight of the police above. And of the usher. He took in his surroundings quickly. It was an area for the workers who tethered and serviced the aircarriages, and it was empty but for five men leaning against a wall nearby. They watched him hurry down the stairs, but didn’t appear concerned.
“Men’s room’s that way,” one called out, pointing to a gap between the main airpark building and a smaller one. “Second door along. Don’t go too far or you’ll end up in the dockworkers’ quarter.”
Tyen tapped his hat in gratitude and hurried in the direction they’d indicated. Once in the passage he glanced back to make sure nobody had followed him and the dockworkers weren’t watching, then continued on towards the rectangle of light where the smaller building ended.
At the end he stopped, surveying the area beyond. A narrow but clean street crossed his path. To the left it met a wider road, which he guessed was the one that ran along the public entrance to the airpark. To the right it continued for a short distance before coming to a dead end. Directly ahead was a narrow, unlit alley. He walked across the road and slipped into the shadows.
A small measure of weight lifted from him. He had evaded the police, but how long would it be before they learned of the sick passenger who had left by the rear of the aircarriage to use the men’s room below and not returned? Once they did, they would guess he had come this way. They would follow.
And he was dressed as a wealthy man in what was probably one of the poorer parts of the town.
If the locals saw him they’d know instantly that he did not belong. While he could use magic to defend himself against robbers, it would make him stand out even more. And the Leratian Daily would have arrived hours ago, so it would not take much for anyone to connect an out-of-place sorcerer with the fugitive the Academy sought.
I need to change my appearance again, he thought. He needed clothing and somewhere to hide until he worked out how to get out of Sacal Bay.
First things first, he told himself. Sticking to the shadows, he tried to keep his footsteps quiet. He heard occasional voices from within the houses on either side, but the streets were quiet. Perhaps the dockworkers were early risers. Perhaps they knew better than to roam the area at night. A staircase appeared between two houses, leading down. It was unoccupied and he needed to get off the street that led so directly from the airpark, so he began to descend. He had to slow, as the stairs were in a bad state of repair and loose treads were concealed in the shadows. It crossed another narrow street. The street was empty, so he turned onto it.
Several steps later he noticed a man standing in the doorway of a house. It would have appeared suspicious to stop and go back so Tyen kept walking an
d pretended not to notice. He felt the man’s gaze on him as he passed. After twenty or so more steps he heard footsteps behind him.
He took the next stairwell, though it was occupied by some children. They stopped their play to watch him. This time he could not pretend not to have seen them, so he smiled as he skirted around them.
Even before he’d reached the next street he could hear it. Slowing, he realised that he was approaching a busy thoroughfare of the area. His heart sank as he saw that the stairway did not continue on after it. He would have to walk along it or go back. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the shapes of the children still sitting on the stairs. Beyond them was another figure, descending towards him.
The man from the doorway? A chill ran down his spine.
Perhaps it would be better to be among a crowd, even if he did stick out in his fancy clothes. Turning away, Tyen continued descending. He briefly considered stopping to open the pogbag and change into his student coat, but as people on the street below passed the bottom of the stairs he knew it would make no difference. He’d still look far better off than the locals.
Reaching the corner, he stopped to survey the street. People were walking to and fro, many with the weary look of workers heading home at the end of the day. A small, loosely spread crowd had gathered several paces along in front of a drinking house. More such establishments were spaced along the street.
Hearing footsteps drawing closer behind him, Tyen took a deep breath, stepped out and started walking. He tried to look relaxed and purposeful, and unconcerned when a few drinking house patrons noticed him and their eyebrows rose. More faces turned towards him as he passed, but he ignored them.
Once he’d passed he could do nothing more than stroll onward. Shops, their windows securely shuttered, followed the drinking house. Far ahead there appeared to be a gap between two that he hoped was a staircase heading uphill again. Before then, he had to pass another, smaller drinking house. As he drew closer he realised that it was actually a cheap travellers’ hotel with a drinking room at the front. The thought of a bed to sleep in tempted him, but he dared not go inside. The story of the rich traveller stopping at the hotel would surely reach the police before the night was through.
The customers were a quieter lot, he noted as he passed. A small group outside appeared to be exchanging farewells before they parted ways, and barely glanced at him. He was drawing curious looks from the workers he passed, however. The sooner he got off this street the better. He fixed his gaze on the stairway gap ahead and lengthened his stride.
“Ren!” a woman shouted somewhere behind him. He heard the sound of someone running behind him, coming rapidly closer. “Stop, Ren! It’s me, your little half-sister! Sezee!”
A hand caught his arm. His heart lurched. He considered resisting – pulling away and making a run for it – but the good manners drilled into him by his father, and the fear of attracting more attention by shaking her off, made him turn.
Immediately he saw three things: the woman was unfamiliar, she was foreign and she was rather beautiful.
“I’m sorry, young la’, you are mis—” he began.
“Oh, Ren. I’d know you anywhere. But you haven’t seen me since I was a child, and the light is behind me.” She smiled and hooked her arm in his. “Come over to the street lamp.”
Perturbed by her overt friendliness and certainty, he did not know what to do. Across the road, the small group had separated, one half entering the travellers’ hotel, the other walking away, and neither paying attention to the apparent reunion. Less than a hundred paces behind him a small group of men approached, and they were paying attention.
She leaned closer and murmured. “Come with me. They won’t dare follow you inside the hotel.”
He obeyed. There was no time to consider his misgivings. Either she was leading him into a trap, or rescuing him from a mugging. He noted that her clothes were neither shabby nor designed to be seductive, so if she was a whore she was no ordinary one. Her skin was a warm light brown in the lamplight, and her hair a glossy black. She guided him across the road and to the hotel door, which he opened for her. As he stepped inside the other patrons glanced up, then looked again as they noted his fine attire. Sezee – if that was her name – immediately unhooked her arm from his and wove between the tables as if there was no question he would follow.
He could not go back outside, so he trailed after her to a small table by the front windows, occupied by another, older woman. This woman looked to be of the same race – perhaps from the West Isles. The smell of food sent his stomach growling, and he was glad it was too noisy for them to hear it. His rescuer, Sezee, sat down and pushed an empty plate and glass to the centre of the table.
“You remember Aunt Veroo, Ren?” she asked.
Perhaps, if she was keeping up the pretence, she had reason to. He bowed. “I … it was a long time ago.”
“It was,” the woman replied, her eyes crinkling with humour. “Let’s get you a chair.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” he told her. He glanced out of the window. The thugs were gone. No police. Yet. “I cannot stay long.”
Sezee ignored him, rising and moving to a nearby table to ask if she could take an unoccupied chair. The couple sitting there eyed her suspiciously, but as her gesture led their attention to Tyen the dislike in their faces disappeared and they nodded.
“Thank you,” Tyen said as he took the chair and Sezee settled down again. Sezee leaned towards him and lowered her voice.
“Forgive me for asking, but what are you doing in this part of town?”
“I confess I was lost,” he told her.
“So you just arrived in town?” she guessed. “Looking for your hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Which hotel were you seeking?”
He shrugged. “Whichever had a room free. I hadn’t made a booking.”
She smiled again. “You have an adventurous spirit. I like that. Perhaps a little too adventurous if you thought you could come into this part of town looking like that.” She leaned a little closer. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I fear I must risk heading back to the centre of town, or all the rooms will be taken before I arrive.”
“You could stay here. It’s not glamorous, but it has a clean reputation.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder then back again. “I wonder … would you be willing to continue pretending to be my wealthy Leratian half-brother Ren?”
He looked from her to the older woman. Sezee appeared hopeful and perhaps even a little embarrassed, but Veroo was frowning. Was this some kind of trick? Had they worked out who he was and were they trying to delay him?
On the other hand … if they were willing to pretend to be relatives, it might prove to be the disguise he needed.
“Why do you want me to be?” he asked.
“We’ve been trying to find a decent place to stay since we got here this morning, but all Sacal Bay’s hotel were full, despite what their signs said.” Veroo’s scowl told him how likely she thought that was. “This has been so often our reception. I do not know if it is because we are foreign or two women travelling without a male companion, or a combination of both.”
Tyen blinked as he realised what this meant. “You do not have a room here?”
“No. Fortunately they were happy to sell food and drink to us. We were about to leave when I saw those men following you.”
“You want me to come with you to try another hotel?”
She shrugged. “We’ve tried all the rest. So I guess if you don’t help us we’ll have to find somewhere quiet to wait out the night.”
Which was what Tyen had planned to do. But they were not fugitives, like him. They were two innocent, defenceless women.
He ought to leave them to their own troubles. He ought to find a place to hide and a new disguise. Looking out of the window, he saw no police. No pursuers. Had they not worked out where he’d gone? Did they fear to enter the dockwor
kers’ quarter at night? To search it thoroughly they’d have to go from house to house, hindered by disgruntled residents. Perhaps it would be easier and safer to do so in daylight.
“The manager wasn’t around when you came in,” Sezee told him. “If you ask for rooms for yourself and two women…”
“You think he’ll give them to me,” he guessed.
Sezee nodded. “It’s worth a try. You don’t look like someone he’d dare refuse.”
He didn’t. But for the same reason, he couldn’t stay here. Still, it was the least he could do to see them settled in a room. Perhaps there was a rear entrance to the hotel that he could leave by, rather than the very public street in front. And if he could somehow find a change of clothes …
“How many nights do you wish to stay?” he asked.
“Just the one. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”
“What does the manager look like?”
“Large. Bald. Smells like pipegrass.”
Tyen found the manager at the back of the room, smoking with two equally large and hairless men. When the man saw him, his eyebrows rose with amusement.
“Have you a couple of rooms free?” Tyen asked.
The man blinked in surprise, then got to his feet. “We have one. It’s a standard double room. Nothing fancy.”
Tyen shook his head. “There are three of us, and the la’es require a room of their own.” He began to turn away.
“Well, if you don’t mind sharing, I have a free bed in another double.”
Looking back, Tyen pretended to consider. “Very well,” he said, then sighed. “It will have to do.”
The man demanded the fee up front and refused to haggle. Tyen insisted he inspect the women’s room before paying anything. Once out of sight, he quickly explored the nearby passages and found a door that, though locked, appeared to be a way out. Then he returned to the drinking room. The manager looked more amused than annoyed when the women turned out to be to Sezee and Veroo.
“How are you related?” he asked as they made their way towards Tyen.
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